


Something's Getting In The Way

by kissesfromkrug



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2011-2012 Season, Confusion, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Miscommunication, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesfromkrug/pseuds/kissesfromkrug
Summary: "Don't let anyone put too much pressure on you, either. I was supposed to save a franchise, and look what I did?" Taylor grins as he waves around at the guys, but it's weak around the edges. "With you, though, we can do it. We'll be partners in crime - might not save a team, but we'll show 'em how it's really done, eh?"





	Something's Getting In The Way

**Author's Note:**

> Not for profit, fictional; feel free to point out any typos. :)
> 
> (P L E A S E. I hate grammatical errors, especially if I don't catch them in time.)
> 
> Title taken from "The Diary of Jane" by Breaking Benjamin. You find awesome songs every day, I guess.
> 
> I used the Oilers schedule and roster extensively while writing this, so any games and scores mentioned actually happened; and although I can't guarantee 100% accuracy, I tried my best.
> 
> So, uh. Here goes.

Taylor isn't awkward when he first meets Ryan - then again, he never tends to be, even with new people. He just has a way of brushing off everything and anything that could possibly be humiliating and storing it in his head to flip out about when he's alone.

He never gets embarrassed over things that would turn a normal person's face scarlet - which is convenient when people are purposely trying to make him feel bad. Then again, Taylor wouldn't be classified as a normal person by any means. He just - doesn't react to things like others do. Like they should.

Ryan, however. Ryan is an anomaly.

The beginning of his rookie season, he's all smiles for the camera, smooth and confident and sturdy. Taylor almost approaches him their very first day of training camp, but the look on Ryan's face suggests he might as well stay away.

He has a mixture of anxiety, worry, and determination written into his young features, and Taylor admittedly frowns as he sees it. He's never known someone to pull off all those emotions simultaneously and still manage to impress a lineup of vets and NHL coaching staff on his first day - never mind either thing by itself.

Taylor eyes him throughout camp, eventually starting up a conversation about the ups and downs of being a rookie after their first pre-season game.

"But don't, like, automatically think you're the shit, 'cause like, even though you are, you can't think about it," Taylor explains roughly. "You just gotta play and _show_ people that you're the real shit."

"Inspirational," is all Ryan says, slowly stripping off his socks as Taylor shifts on both bare feet in front of him.

"Don't let anyone put too much pressure on you, either. I was supposed to save a franchise, and look what I did?" Taylor grins as he waves around at the guys, but it's weak around the edges. "With you, though, we can do it. We'll be partners in crime - might not save a team, but we'll show 'em how it's really done, eh?"

"Sure." Ryan cracks a small smile at that, and Taylor considers it a victory.

"Gotta keep your head up, rookie." Ryan looks up at him with a confused expression, and Taylor winks. "Just like that."

• • •

Ryan isn't a stranger to media presence, having learned enough in Red Deer by the time he manages to make it to the big leagues. However, there's one thing that makes him a bit different than the other rookies that have come in - Taylor included.

When Ryan has the spotlight, he'll willingly play the star, but in places where it's easy to slide by unnoticed, he has the knack of doing exactly that. Taylor wonders whether he should step up to the plate and do something about it. He can't let Ryan fall too far from the tree.

Ryan never initiates conversations in the locker room, and his stall happens to be in the opposite corner as Taylor's. Taylor has had enough of seeing Ryan essentially sulk by himself and is convinced that Coach wants to hide him until the time is right.

What better time than the present, and why hide such a pretty face?

One night after a satisfying win against Washington - and everyone knows wins don't come often _or_ easy these days - Taylor throws his helmet at his bag and spontaneously bounds over to Ryan, smacking him repeatedly on the knees. "Great job, Nugget, you're the fucking bomb!"

"Thanks." Ryan just gives him an odd smile, and the gears in Taylor's brain stop moving for a short moment. Where's his excitement? "Nice goal."

"Fucking bomb," Taylor says again, swelling with pride. "You, me, n' Ebs, eh? We are on _fire_!"

"Fire," Ryan seems to agree absentmindedly.

"You comin' out with us tonight?" Ryan shrugs and slides off his elbow pads, smiling a bit more as Ebs thumps him on the shoulder on the way by, ruffling Taylor's already unkempt hair.

"Haven't decided yet," he says. "Probably not."

"C'mon, rookie, it'll be fun!" Taylor chirps excitedly, hardly noticing the way Ryan stiffens. Taylor hardly has a right to call him a rookie - he was in Ryan's position a mere six months ago. "I'm already betting you can drink twice as much as Ebs, he's light as a feather. I'll put a hundo down on you, alright?"

"Whatever you want," Ryan answers, and a ball of sock tape hits Taylor in the ass. Taylor turns around to whooping calls, and Ebs wolf-whistles as Taylor struts across the locker room to friendly laughter.

"Dumbass," Tubes calls out, and Taylor pouts as he plops in his stall.

"It's a better ass than yours."

"I beg to differ."

No one notices Ryan's eyes firmly fixed on Taylor, or if they do, they don't take it for anything. Taylor can take up an entire room just with his presence. Any rookie would be stunned into silent ogling.

• • •

"Nugget Nugget Nugget!" Taylor shouts over the cacophony of chattering players, stepping over various bags and equipment tossed on the floor. "Nuge!"

"Yeah?" Ryan answers, looking up from where he's stripped down to his under armor.

"You wanna come with me and Ebs to the gym tomorrow? Heard the trainers saying you should bulk up, thought we might be able to help."

Ryan doesn't _exactly_ bristle, but he definitely doesn't burst into song, either. He eyes Taylor while shoving his gear in his bag. "Uh, I dunno, I was gonna go on a run and-" He starts, but Taylor's too excited for his hesitation.

"Then come after that!"

"Taylor, I, uh - I'm sorry, but not this time." Taylor pouts for about a second, then shrugs.

"Whatever you wanna do, Nuge," he says easily."And call me Hallsy." He trips over a stray glove as he makes his way back across the locker room. "Clean up after yourselves, you animals!" He calls out, and Ebs snorts.

"Says Mr. 'I can't work the washing machine'."

"Hey, Mr. 'I can't drink more than one beer without getting wasted', I didn't think I asked!" Taylor shoots back with a teasing smile, and suddenly everything's back to simple teases and overused insults.

Even so, Taylor can't help but think of Ryan as he and Ebs drive home, wondering why in the world the kid is _so damn skittish_ around him. He might have the biggest mouth this side of the border, but his face isn't _that_ scary-looking, is it?

"Am I weird?" Taylor blurts out, and Ebs sends him a strange look.

"Weird in general or something specific?" Taylor opens his mouth to answer, but Ebs adds, "I mean, it's yes either way, but just checking."

"Hey!"

"Just checking, bud."

Taylor frowns but elaborates, "Like, does Nuge look at me weird? Is there something weird on my face?"

"Dude, your _everything_ is weird," Ebs sighs. "But no, I haven't noticed him looking anywhere but his feet. I don't really think he likes talking to people."

"New people," Taylor corrects. "But he likes me."

"Then why ask if he thinks you're weird? It's not even a question, first of all-"

" _Okay_ , I get it, I'm too handsome for you, it's fine." Without taking his eyes off the road Ebs reaches over and smacks Taylor's arm. "Ow, fuck you."

"Weirdo."

• • •

"You seem a little down lately, so I-"

"We," Jordan emphasizes.

" _We_ were wondering if you wanted to come pick up some ice cream with us," Taylor finishes. Ryan stares at him, wondering if it's some sort of joke.

"Isn't it against the diet plan?" He finally asks. Taylor just laughs and shrugs it off while Ryan adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

"Ah, who gives a shit, you scored last night."

"But we lost, and I thought you wanted me to bulk up?" Ryan asks in confusion. "Or is this-"

"C'mon," Jordan says, and Ryan goes easily, trailing after Taylor on the way to Jordan's SUV. "I'll tell Whits where you are so he doesn't lose his shit over his lost rookie." Ryan frowns but doesn't comment.

When they all climb in, Taylor leans across to Jordan and whispers, "Don't make the rookie feel awkward, 'kay?"

"I'm not the one that needs to be told." Ryan purposely makes an unnecessarily large amount of noise climbing in to not overhear them, but Taylor's a shitty whisperer anyway.

"My name isn't rookie," he says, and Taylor looks back in surprise.

"Sorry, kid."

"It's Ryan."

"Nuge," Taylor corrects firmly, grinning widely back at him as Jordan begins to back up. Ryan sighs and slumps against the seat, staring out the window at the dreary sky.

Taylor hears his soft exhale, eyeing him through the rearview mirror. "What's your favorite flavor?" He asks, and Ryan glances up.

"Mint chocolate chip." Taylor beams as bright as the sun. 

"Dude, same!" He exclaims, reaching back for a fist bump. Ryan willingly gives it to him, smiling a bit. "We've got so much in common, this is so great."

"You've played with him for two months, you're on the same line, and you're both Canadian," Jordan points out. "What can be more in common than that?"

"You're all of those things too, but you're boring when you pick dessert," Taylor says. "You always get the plain Klondike bars. _So_ boring."

"What would you do for a Klondike bar?" Ryan hums. 

"The double chocolate ones are gross," Jordan says. "You _always_ pick those."

"Do _not_ , the Heath bar ones are good too."

"Those are _worse_ ," Jordan says, hands sliding over the wheel, and Taylor huffs. "You eat too much dairy."

"You're the one literally driving us to get ice cream," Taylor points out.

"Want me to turn around? I can turn around right now." Taylor sees Ryan roll his eyes, and he turns around with a frown.

"Sorry, Nuge, he's as insurmountable as they come," he apologizes, and Jordan hits him in the knee. "Just drive, no need to abuse the passengers."

" _Abuse the_ \- oh my god," Jordan laughs, shaking his head. "You probably don't even know what insurmountable _means -_ and it's insufferable, if that's the word you're looking for."

"Yes - wait, no - don't tell me how to-"

"Guys," Ryan sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Just-" Taylor glances up at the rearview mirror and sees Ryan's uncomfortable scrunched up position, awkwardness built into every part of how he holds himself.

"Sorry," Jorgan apologizes sincerely.

"I'll keep him quiet," Taylor vows, silently wondering how Ryan got so mature so young and where he can get some advice. Ryan's mom has gotta the best mom around, judging by her son's behavior.

At the store, they each pick out two flavors, which is probably a bad idea. Taylor hungrily eyes every single one they put in front of the amused cashier, and Jordan sets down two bottles of chocolate syrup and one container of cherries.

"He'll eat them all," Ryan says, jabbing a thumb at Taylor when the cashier asks what the special occasion is. "No occasion. Just hungry."

"Shopping while hungry is never a good thing," she agrees, but before Ryan can even pull out his wallet, Taylor reaches over him and slides his credit card.

"All on me," he says with a wink, and something weird happens to Ryan's face as it crinkles up. "You alright over there?"

"Fine, thanks."

They spent two hours sitting in the chairs on Jordan and Taylor's deck, eating ice cream and talking. The conversation flows easily, and Taylor always keeps an eye on Ryan, who eventually seems to relax into Jordan's natural laid back attitude and Taylor's energetic and mouthy personality. They keep it up until Ryan's eyes begin to droop, and Taylor, being the ever-watchful guardian, notices at once.

"Naptime?" Jordan suggests, gathering their bowls and bringing them to the kitchen.

"I should probably head back home," Ryan says, looking like he's about to fall asleep on his feet as he leans heavily on the fridge.

"Uh-uh, you're gonna stay here," Taylor says, wrapping an arm around Ryan's shoulders and leading him to the couch. "Stay. I'll get you a blanket."

"He literally never does shit for anyone else," Jordan laughs when Taylor's out of earshot. "Consider yourself lucky." Ryan squints up at him, sinking down into the couch cushions as Taylor returns with a blanket.

It's soft and red with frayed edges, obviously well worn and well loved, and Ryan stares up at Taylor as he covers up his younger teammate with a motherly instinct. Jordan barely stifles a chuckle, but Taylor only flips him off behind his back while smiling down at Ryan.

"Sleep tight, little Nugget," he says, and Ryan squirms around to get comfortable.

"'M not little."

"Maybe if you came to work out with us more often, you wouldn't have to be called little." Ryan just glares at him, and Taylor grins and makes his way out of the living room.

"Dude." Jordan pokes his head into Taylor's bedroom once Taylor's flopped down onto his back. "What the hell."

"What?"

"What _was_ that?" Jordan asks. "You trying to baby him or something? You know he doesn't like that, he's trying to grow up. Besides, he's barely a year younger than you."

"Year and five months, actually," Taylor corrects with a yawn. "18 months or whatever."

"17."

"Whatever." Taylor waves a hand in Jordan's direction. Jordan fully steps into the light from the hallway, leaning on the doorframe and keeping his voice low.

"But seriously, what the fuck?" He prompts. "Why'd you do that?"

"I'm a better mentor than Whits, just wanna be a good influence on him," Taylor answers casually, and Jordan snorts, not unkindly.

"That's the last thing you should ever be - you suck at making good life choices, like 100% of your life."

"Only 93% of the time, actually," Taylor corrects. "I'm giving him the 7% of stuff that I actually have done right, don't worry."

"I worry for anyone who ever goes near you."

"Then you must worry about yourself a shit ton, maybe that's why you're so stressed."

"Shut up," Jordan says, stepping out of his room.

"Shut the door!" Taylor calls after him, but just to be stubborn, Jordan leaves it about two inches open. "Dick."

• • •

The way Ryan carries himself around the team slowly begins to change as they march through December. Taylor notices it right away, eyeing the way he involves himself in more team outings and makes more of an effort to have fun. Ryan has dropped some of the stoic act he'd put on, but whenever someone tries to get too close or crosses that unspoken line, he shuts down and stares at his shoes - or, more recently, his glass of whiskey.

"Does he like me?" Taylor asks Jordan one night at a team dinner, leaning over into his space. "Does he like  _anyone_?"

"Yeah, probably his brother and his parents and people who don't talk about him behind his back," Jordan answers smoothly, glancing straight across the table where Ryan's vacated his seat for the restroom.

"I'm not talking behind his back, I'm just discussing ways to cheer him up."

"What are your ideas?" Jordan asks, covering his face with the glass of water as Ryan returns to his chair and sits down stiffly.

"I dunno, just. Hug him a lot?" Taylor thinks aloud, but Jordan shakes his head and shushes him.

"Hallsy, he doesn't like people touching him unless it's through five inches of pads," Jordan says, "And we're being kinda rude."

"Who needs a lot of hugs?" Tubes interjects, leaning over into Taylor and wrapping his arms around him. "I like hugs."

"Ugh, get off before I shove my chicken leg down your throat," Taylor whines, grabbing Tubes' wrists and tugging.

"You love me," Tubes insists, pinching Taylor's ear after he pulls his arms back. "You know you do."

"You're so gross, ugh, I do _not_." Taylor catches Ryan's eye from across the table and leans forward a bit. "You want a hug? You're not as gross as he is."

" _Ew_ ," is all Ryan says, and everyone laughs. Ryan smiles, and Taylor rolls his eyes and pouts dramatically.

"Come _on_ , guys, can't anyone love me the way I am?"

"All those girls seem to love your stupid face," Whits points out, and if he wasn't as far away, Taylor would punch him in the gut. All in the name of brotherly love, of course.

"My face is gorgeous and should not be described otherwise," Taylor says in a fake haughty tone, seeing Ryan's frown darken his features. Taylor ignores it for the moment, as Jordan pokes his thigh and raises his eyebrows. "What?" Taylor hisses.

"Idiot." He sends an obvious glance towards a stewing Ryan, shoulders slumped as he pokes at the remainder of a salad.

"What did _I_ do?"

"Anyone wanna hear a joke?" Whits offers, and there's an immediate chorus of "no"s. "What's the difference between a chick pea and a garbanzo bean?" Taylor's jaw falls slack as Whits finishes, "Taylor's never had a garbanzo bean on him."

"Shut the fuck up, I told you that in confidence, dickhead!" Taylor protests as the table cackles with laughter. "Douchebag!"

"Shouldn't have told me then, Hallsy, not my fault I can't keep my mouth shut," Whits says with a wink.

"Ugh," Taylor grumbles to himself, ignoring the chirps and looking up at Ryan yet again. Ryan's face is bright red, lips pressed together in a thin white line as he refuses to look anywhere but his lap.

"You're so dumb," Jordan says fondly, elbowing Taylor in the ribs.

"You love me," Taylor says automatically, finishing off his drink. "You all love me."

"Uh, false."

"Um, true?" Taylor says, snapping out of his Ryan-induced daze to raise an eyebrow at Jordan. "Check your facts twice, Ebs, check your facts."

Ryan doesn't speak for the next two days.

• • •

Taylor stares out over the city, spoon in his empty bowl as he thinks. "Ryan doesn't like me," he says aloud, hearing Jordan shift in his chair by its squeak.

"He likes you. Some people don't show affection by jumping on their friends and smacking them and squeezing the backs of their necks," Jordan says. Taylor doesn't respond for a few seconds.

"So he _does_ like me?"

"Oh my god - Hallsy, you gotta ask him, I dunno what he likes or who he likes or anything. He positively tolerates you, so that's a step up from where I am."

"Is that a yes?" Jordan sighs.

"Don't know. _Ask him_."

"When?"

"Do you wanna know now?" Jordan prompts.

"Yeah."

"Then call him and ask."

"What do I say, just - 'hey I was wondering if you liked me or you just low-key hate literally everyone'?" Taylor asks, but Jordan only shrugs, eyes on the stars.

"Do it however you know how to," he says wisely, and Taylor is impressed. He grabs his empty ice cream bowl, heads inside to the kitchen, and pulls out his phone.

"Nugget!" He chirps happily once Ryan picks up on the fourth ring. He almost thought Ryan wouldn't answer.

"Hi?" His voice is faint and wary, and Taylor makes his way to the living room and gracefully flops on the couch.

"How's it going?"

"Um. It's good? Thanks," Ryan answers.

"Are you sure? You don't seem so sure."

"I'm fine," Ryan says, more forcefully this time. "Everything's fine, just fine and dandy." Taylor grins to himself, thinking,  _Who even_ says _that anymore?_

"Do you like me?" Taylor blurts out, almost wishing he'd actually thought it over. Oh well. No shame, no gain, right? Wait. It probably had something to do with pain somewhere along the line?

"Uh, what?" Ryan sounds even more nervous, sound a bit muffled, as if he's shielding his mouth from someone else.

"Do you like me? Like, are we friends?" Taylor elaborates, and Ryan audibly exhales.

"Oh," he says, obviously relieved, "Yeah. Yeah, we're - of course, yeah, we're friends. Why ask?"

"Just wondering, you seemed a little edgy lately and I just wanted to know if I was the problem." Ryan nervously laughs on the other end, saying,

"Oh, uh, no, it's not you, just. Something little that's been on my mind. It'll be okay, I can deal."

"If you say so," Taylor says. "Wanna come over tomorrow for ice cream and video games after practice?" Taylor feels way more confident now that he has Ryan's friendship locked down. He hates making people sad - unless they're fans of opposing teams, of course. He's good at making them sad - and even more than that, sometimes.

"I was gonna run after-"

"I'll come with," Taylor interrupts. "You're not getting away with that this time." Ryan pauses for a long moment.

"Okay."

"Ebs is gonna nap, so I'll keep you company till he wakes up. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," Ryan agrees. "Then ice cream?"

"And video games," Taylor adds. "Don't forget the video games."

"Of course," Ryan says with a smile in his voice, and Taylor pumps his fist.

"Meet me after practice, okay? Come home with us to change." Ryan murmurs his assent, then a parting word, and the second he hangs up Taylor whoops.

"What now?" Jordan asks amusedly, dumping his bowl in the sink and turning on the water.

"We're going on a run," Taylor sing-songs as he waltzes into the kitchen. "Nugget's my best friend, we're going on a run, and then we'll eat more ice cream, we need some more mint chocolate, and then we'll play some video games."

"You're such a-" Jordan is at a loss for words as he watches his best friend dance around the room. "You guys are besties now, huh?"

"He likes me!" Taylor grins, sliding across the linoleum towards Jordan. "Ebby, he likes me!"

"Fantastic. I can kinda tell." Taylor grabs his shoulders as he's walking out of the kitchen, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Jordan, we're _all_ gonna be besties! Aren't you fucking excited?" He demands, and Jordan grins.

"He didn't say he liked me yet, so I dunno. Depends on him," Jordan answers.

"He does though, he has to, we're a two-in-one package! Can't get one without the other." He pinched Jordan in the side on their way back outside. "If he likes me, he idolizes you."

"Not sure that's how it works."

"Of course it is, there's nothing wrong with a hockey crush," Taylor says as he sits back down in the deck chair and watches Edmonton's daily lunchtime hustle and bustle, his tone a little too light and calm.

"No..." Jordan looks over at him, and Taylor manages to keep his eyes trained on the city.

"Yes?"

"What about a not-hockey crush?"

"Like an 'I wanna fuck you' kinda crush?" Taylor asks bluntly, and Jordan laughs.

"Only you, Hallsy, only you," he says. "And yeah, that kind of crush."

"Ryan? On you? He totally would've jumped you already, I can already tell he's that kinda dude."

"No, not on me," Jordan chuckles lightly. "On _you_."

" _Me_?" Taylor asks incredulously, pointing to himself and finally turning to Jordan. "It took me prompting him to actually admit that I wasn't his mortal enemy! Are you kidding me?"

"You haven't seen the way he looks at you?" And _oh_ , wow. Taylor's never given thought to that.

But really, Ebby?  _Really_? Taylor's not gonna fall _that_ low. It's already surprising enough that Ryan doesn't resent him. After all, their personalities couldn't be more different.

"That's ridiculous," Taylor scoffs after a few extra seconds of thought. "That's so dumb, I can't believe I didn't say it. And he doesn't look at me any way - you said it yourself, all he does is stare at his skates and wish everyone would shut up."

"Not since you started trying to become his friend."

"So, since what, pretty much day one?" Taylor says. "You're being stupid."

"He looks at you differently," Jordan insists. "He's fitting in to the groove of the group more, but you. I don't think he understands you, is all, and he really, really wants to." Taylor thinks about that for a minute.

Ryan really, really wants to understand Taylor? How is Taylor  _that_ confusing? He literally says what's on his mind at any given time and makes his feelings toward certain people and topics more than obvious, what else is there to understand?

Taylor's always been Ryan's polar opposite, sure, but that doesn't make him too dense to understand his older teammate. At least, it shouldn't. No one else has ever had a problem with getting Taylor - and not just in Edmonton.

"How doesn't he get me though?" Taylor finally asks.

"You are simple," Jordan agrees, leaning away from Taylor's lazy attempt at a smack. "But he's complicated."

"Obviously," Taylor mumbles, rolling his head to the side and cracking his neck. "But seriously, like. I'm normal? And easy to understand?" Jordan just smiles, looking as if he's in a daze, and shakes his head.

"Good one."

• • •

Taylor slowly runs his hands through his hair as he stands under the steaming water, eyes squeezed shut so the soap doesn't go where it isn't supposed to. There's the low chatter of voices all around him, but for once, he doesn't engage in conversation.

He hears a quick patter of feet, then a knob squeaking as it's twisted on. He glances to the side to see Ryan standing there, his head ducked down and shoulders slumped. Taylor sees him like this too often when they're not on the ice.

"Hey." Ryan jerks his head up, looking almost guilty as his eyes dart up to Taylor's. Taylor grins toothily at him. "What's up? We still on for that run?"

"Run? Oh, yeah, of course." Ryan grabs the soap and lathers up his hands. "I might be a bit."

"Take your time," Taylor encourages, letting his gaze roam over Ryan's torso. He isn't as built as a lot of the other guys in the room, having not grown fully into his body and still being only 18. Taylor finds his face reddening with shame at the thought. Then again, he himself is only 20.

He refuses to let himself look any lower than Ryan's waist - at least, not today. He's not in the mood to be tempted into saying something else stupid.

Of course, who is he to be modest? Ryan _does_ have a pretty nice dick. It's not like everyone hasn't seen each other's, anyway.

"You okay?" Ryan asks tentatively. Jesus, this kid - _don't call him a kid_ , Taylor reprimands his brain - is shy as _fuck_.

"Fine." Taylor stares one last time into Ryan's eyes, blondish hair sopping wet and falling half over his eyes. "Meet you by Ebby's car." Ryan nods and turns back to the shower wall, and Taylor pulls the curtain all the way closed and steps out. He snatches a towel to fluff his hair and rub his chest dry, then wrapping it around his waist as he digs around in his bag for his clothes. 

 _This is why we fold things_ , Taylor can imagine Jordan telling him as he pulls out his wrinkled dress shirt. Oh well. He doesn't particularly care for this shirt anyway.

"This is why we fold things," Jordan says, leaning on Taylor's shoulder. Taylor only rolls his eyes.

"I'd do a lot better in life if I wasn't bossed around," Taylor shoots back, slipping his arms through the holes and buttoning it up. Jordan shakes his head in mock despair, and Taylor adds, "Go get the car warmed up, we're going home with Nuge."

Jordan raises an eyebrow. "Are we now?"

"Did I not explain this yesterday?"

"Oh, right, your romantic run in the cold, I remember now," Jordan says, pretending to be all reverent and shit. Taylor is not impressed.

"There's nothing romantic about anything, shut your mouth." Taylor tosses the towel into his stall as Jordan flicks him in the forehead and heads out.

• • •

"How can you _talk_ so much?" Ryan asks as they stop on a street corner.

"I got a lotta things to say," Taylor answers, only the slightest bit out of breath. "A lotta things in my head."

If someone else were here, they'd chirp him about how Taylor's head is probably empty, he just talks to fill the void of unintelligence. He talks to make it seem like he's got more brains than he actually does, talks to entertain others instead of share his knowledge. But this is Ryan.

"What about breathing? Ever considered that?" Ryan is leaning on a pole, trying to steady his shallow breaths.

"Breathing just happens - if I wanna talk, I gotta do it myself." Ryan raises an eyebrow, but before he can comment, the light to cross turns green.

"Not everyone can multitask like you, Taylor," Ryan says, maintaining a light jog next to Taylor. "We're not that advanced yet."

"It's _Hallsy_ ," Taylor insists. "Don't call me Taylor, that just sounds weird."

"But it's your name?"

"But we're friends, we should call each other by our friend-names, _Nuge_ ," Taylor says, emphasizing the last word.

"Nicknames?" Ryan suggests.

"Specifics, Nugget, don't worry about it," Taylor says. "As long as you're Nugget and I'm Hallsy, we're buds."

"Buds."

"Yup." Ryan doesn't say anything, so it's Taylor's turn to speak. Again. "So. About-"

"Oh my _god_ ," Ryan says, shaking his head as they turn a corner. "You're like, physically unable to stop talking, aren't you?"

"You just figured that out?" Taylor grins. "Little slow on the uptake there, eh?"

Ryan stays quiet as Taylor chatters on about what video games they should play, how much ice cream is appropriate for a cloudy day (which, how are those things relevant to each other?), who'll be on the next NHL cover, and even the weather for their next road trip down into the US after Christmas break. He talks and talks until they turn onto his street, Ryan half-listening the whole way.

"And why are we having ice cream during below-zero weather in December, again?" Ryan asks, breath visible in little puffs of moisture as Taylor struggles to unlock the front door.

"It's tradition," Taylor says simply, pushing the blue door open and leading Ryan inside. They kick off their shoes, drop their hats and gloves on a little table, and hang their coats up on the hooks, all at Taylor's direction.

Taylor points to the couch, and Ryan seats himself while Taylor moves to the kitchen and scoops two bowls of mint chocolate chip with chocolate syrup.

"I'll get Ebby," Taylor says in lieu of a "you're welcome" after he hands Ryan his ice cream, excitedly shouting, "Wake the fuck up!" down the hallway. Ryan rolls his eyes and turns on the tv, grabbing a few controllers.

"What the hell?" Jordan mumbles as he eventually trudges into the living room behind a gleeful Taylor. "You could've woken me like a normal person."

"What's the fun in that?" Taylor chirps. "Want some ice cream?"

"I want a hot shower and mittens," Jordan replies. "But get me a controller and hot chocolate, please, while you're being all generous."

"Nope, sorry, not on the menu!" Jordan huffs and plops down on Ryan's right side while Taylor takes the left cushion. Ryan hands them both controllers, and Taylor immediately calls out, "I wanna be me!"

"No one else was gonna choose you anyway," Ryan says, and Jordan grins. "I'm better at scoring anyway."

"You sit on a throne of lies," Taylor says, and Jordan clicks through the different options until he finds Crosby. "Ugh, why him?"

"You love him," Jordan says, and Taylor sighs regretfully as if some great secret has been revealed.

"It's no sin to love the greatest," he agrees with a nod, putting on a faux-wistful expression and pretending to stare into the distance. Ryan just elbows him and chooses Teemu Selanne as a character as Jordan switches to himself.

"Let's go." He spoons some ice cream into his mouth, and the three of them soon fall into an easy rhythm of swatting each other and kicking ankles as a means of distraction.

Taylor notices Ryan's comfortable ease sandwiched between the two of them, chirping them as much as he's receiving the meaningless insults. He grins even when Ryan scores against him, Jordan frowning disappointedly and leaning over to smack Taylor in the back of the head.

"Pay attention," he scolds, but Taylor just sticks out his tongue.

"Try and get a goal," he shoots back, looking up at the score. 5-3 Ryan's Ducks. "It's not my fault, Ebby."

" _You_ could get a goal once in a while," Jordan says, and Ryan finishes off the last of his melted ice cream as he shoots at the Edmonton goal with one hand on the controller. He puts up an assist as Jordan and Taylor groan in tandem, glaring at each other.

"Not my fault," Taylor reminds him.

"It's everyone's fault," Jordan sighs heavily. "We all suck."

"I don't," Ryan points out, and to prove his point, the game ends 8-4 Ducks. "I win."

"What do I owe you?" Taylor pouts, and suddenly Ryan is back to his awkward self.

"Oh! Uh, nothing, I'm fine. You lost. That's enough."

"You sure?" Ryan nods jerkily, and Jordan's phone begins to quack faintly.

"I'll get it," Jordan volunteers, ever willing to help out Taylor in his quest to figure out the Nuge. He disappears back into his bedroom, and Taylor is left staring at Ryan's downturned face.

"You okay?"

"Fine!" Ryan squeaks out. "Fine, just. Cold?" He looks up just as Taylor sets down his controller and fully turns to face Ryan, one foot tucked under himself.

"It's 22° in here, I think you'll be fine," Taylor says delicately.

"Taylor-"

" _Hallsy_ ," he corrects with a raised eyebrow.

"Hallsy, I - please don't hate me for this, okay? I just-" Taylor frowns in confusion until Ryan pushes himself forward to plant his lips on Taylor's. Taylor's eyes widen before they flutter shut as he sinks into the kiss, hand resting on the curve of Ryan's shoulder.

Ryan is tentative and doesn't test the waters beyond a gentle press of his slightly chapped lips, tasting of mint and chocolate and the nip of the bitter wind outside. Taylor takes it upon himself, after realizing that Ryan isn't moving away, to slip his tongue between Ryan's lips. Wrong move.

All of a sudden there's a clatter as Ryan jerks away. "Fuck, I'm so sorry - uh, shit-" He scrambles away, and Taylor can hear him shoving on his coat and shoes and stumbling out the door. It slams loudly, and Taylor winces and looks down at the porcelain bowl by his feet.

He pads to the door and sees a fluffy gray hat with a pompom on top laying on the table by the shoes. "Forgot his hat," he says, picking it up as Jordan pokes his head out of his bedroom.

"What the hell was that?" He calls.

"Nuge," Taylor answers, bringing the hat close to his face and drawing in the scent. It's not only soft-looking, but soft smelling as well. Taylor identifies a mix of strawberry shampoo and the biting cold in the fabric, inhaling several times to catch the scent of Ryan's cologne and something even fainter than that, something distinctly and most definitely Ryan. There's a hint of mint leaves as well, and Taylor drops the hat back onto the mini table.

"He left without saying goodbye?" Jordan asks, emerging from around the corner with a hand covering his phone and a sad frown on his face. "Afraid of winning or something? Got a hot date?"

"I dunno," Taylor lies. "Just ran right outta here."

"What did I tell you about making him awkward?"

"Nothing," Taylor grins, "He made himself awkward." In this case, it's not a lie.

• • •

Taylor visits his family during the holidays, the flight home leaving at 12 am on the 23rd immediately following a 4-1 win over Minnesota. He bids farewell to the exhausted Ebs that dropped him off, thinking of Ryan until he falls asleep right after takeoff. Ryan hadn't made an effort to contact Taylor since their Couch Kiss. Yes, it's that important that he has to capitalize it, and no, there is no room for constructive criticism for Taylor's mental notes.

His mother hugs him tight when he finally arrives in Kingston nearly 10 hours later on his internal clock, his head resting on her shoulder and eyes still bleary from sleep. "Your cousins are all dying to see you," she says, and he smiles.

"It's been awhile, eh?"

He does his gift shopping the day before Christmas Day itself, choosing to spend the first day with his family. There are reasons that stores are open this late.

Taylor entertains his youngest cousins with wild stories of his adventures in the NHL, rattling off tales of dumb things he and Jordan have done and the wonders Ryan has worked as a rookie. He tells them about good pranks that've been pulled and ones that have flopped, about strange life advice their coach has imparted upon them and weird locker room traditions.

Eventually they get outside to the expansive frozen pond in their backyard to mess around with old sticks and a little ball. His father even joins in for a little while, looking a little wobbly on his skates as Taylor shoots a few loving chirps his way.

Christmas dinner is full of happy laughter and a familial warmth, but there's one thing that Taylor misses from Edmonton more than anything, and when he thinks about it more, he's shocked to learn that it's not Ebs. Jordan is by far his best and closest friend that he's ever had, but it's not that. He does miss Jordan; he loves Jordan like a brother - but this is the heart-wrenching, stomach clenching, Hollywood-level feelings kind of love.

It's for Ryan.

Ryan's rare smile, his too-young face, sharp eyes missing nothing, muscles not fitting quite right on his developing frame, jersey hanging a little lower than most over his ass. His laugh that could light up a room that's only heard once in a great while, his cute little chirps and perfectly curved, always-red lips.

Taylor adores Ryan's natural shyness that evaporates the second he steps on the ice or looks into a camera, his ease at gliding past hits and slapping beautiful goals. Ryan's deft hands and maturity beyond his years, his ease of adapting to new environments and whatever problems come his way. Taylor's noticed it all.

It's only been - what, four months since they officially met? - and Taylor's already swooning over him. No no, not swooning. Just thinking about frequently. Very frequently. Maybe even all the time. Obsessively, even.

Taylor can't think of the exact moment he started paying attention to Ryan's every move. He can't remember the last time he thought about someone in such detail. He knew he immediately bonded with Jordan, knew they'd be best friends forever, but this _thing_ with Ryan...it's different.

From the way Ryan fled from their house, he obviously doesn't feel that way about Taylor, but then again, it was Ryan who initiated the Couch Kiss. He leaned in first. _He_ made it awkward.

Well, Taylor kinda fucked it up, but still. Ryan started it.

"Tay?" Taylor looks up to find his mother looking at him worriedly. "Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale."

"It's that Edmonton winter," someone answers.

"No no, let him think, it might not happen again for a while."

"Pale? He _is_ white."

"He's being quiet for more than three seconds? Somebody write this down."

"Shut up, guys," Taylor finally pipes up, and there's a chorus of laughter. He looks around to see all his aunts and uncles, parents and cousins. "You never see me, don't be mean."

"We love you," his cousin Chrissy says fondly. "That's why we tease you to death."

"I know," he smiles back. "I love you guys too." There's a general "aww", and Taylor's smile widens even more. "Thanks for all this; for everything."

• • •

"You didn't get me a present, did you?" Whits calls across the locker room their first practice back, and he's hit in the face with a pair of neon orange, fuzzy earmuffs.

"Of course I did," Taylor says. "Couldn't forget our ol' Whits, now could I?"

"What about me?" Gags pipes up, and Taylor rolls his eyes.

"Save the presents for after practice, boys," Coach interjects before Taylor can answer. "I know you all love each other, but hold off a bit." Taylor catches Jordan's eyes from a few stalls down and winks.

"What did you get me?" Jordan asks casually when they're on the ice, waiting for their turn in an intricate drill.

"It's a surprise," Taylor says, skating off towards Duby. As he finally winds up for the shot, he sees Ryan staring intently at him from the left corner. His shot pings off the crossbar and out of play.

"Eyes on the target, Hall!" Coach Renney calls out, and there's a wolf whistle as Taylor circles back around. He intentionally runs full-force into Gags, who yelps and tumbles to the ice.

"Shut up," he hisses playfully, their scuffle only lasting a few moments before Gags scrumbles to his feet with the help of the boards.

"Eyes on the target, Hall," he repeats with a twinkle in his eye. "Keep your eyes off the rookie, Hall. Stop staring at the Nuge, Hall."

"Fuck off, I'm not staring."

"You totally are, it's so obvious."

"I'm not obvious and I'm _not_ staring," Taylor insists, eyeing the way Ryan switches from skating forward to backward so easily. He's unnaturally smooth for a rookie, unnaturally talented. Well, maybe not so unnatural for a first overall pick. They picked him for a reason; all these reasons.

"You _so_ are staring," Gags smirks. "Don't bang him up too badly, 'kay, big guy?"

"Shut your fucking-" Taylor gets Gags in a chokehold right before it's their turn for the drill, and Horcs jabs Taylor in the back with the knob of his stick.

"Focus on the play," he says, and Taylor frowns in disappointment but releases his teammate anyway.

"Sorry, Cap." Gags leans back without looking at Taylor and whispers,

"Eyes off the Nuge, Hall." Taylor swats him in the back of the helmet but otherwise doesn't react. He doesn't _stare_  at Ryan, Gags is ridiculous. Taylor isn't _that_ transparent...right?

After practice, Taylor finds himself moving in slow motion. Maggie nudges him as they toss their jerseys into the basket. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Very quiet," Maggie says. "Usually not shut up."

"Hey," Taylor threatens lightly, looking over and smiling to diffuse any worries, "Don't be mean."

"Not mean." Taylor raises an eyebrow, and Maggie grins. "Okay? You sure?"

" _Yes_ , Mags, I'm fine."

"No problem with friends?" Maggie asks quietly, and Taylor sits up quickly.

"No!" Taylor exclaims, catching Jordan's eye from a couple stalls down.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Maggie mumbles, and Jordan raises an eyebrow. Taylor swallows hard and glances over at Ryan, who's in his usual spot in the corner, chatting up Smytty.

Taylor watches with interest as something Ryan says makes the vet throw his head back in laughter, shooting something back that makes Ryan grin just as widely. Taylor has never seen Ryan this loose, joking and laughing and poking the guys on either side of him, and Taylor sighs and smiles almost involuntarily.

The moment is broken when Ryan chances a look across the locker room and catches Taylor's eye. Ryan immediately deflates, smile dropping right off his face as he quickly finishes stripping without looking anywhere but his skates.

"You are staring," Maggie says before dropping his gear in his bag. "Again."

• • •

"I don't understand," Taylor sighs, falling backwards onto his hotel room bed with only a towel around his waist. "What is his _problem_ with me?"

"I assume we're talking about Nuge again, aren't we?" Jordan asks, crossing his arms as he stares at the ceiling. He's comfortably tucked into his own bed, but Taylor huffs until Jordan rolls over to at him. "Aren't we?"

"Yeah, duh."

"He doesn't have a problem with you, Hallsy, you're just a little much," Jordan says.

"A little much?" Taylor asks. "A little much of what?"

"A little too much everything, actually. He's the opposite of you, but you know what they say."

"Opposites attract?" Taylor interjects, both eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Well, I can tell for a fact that he is _not_ attracted to this." He gestures to himself. "For some odd reason."

"Put on some clothes, you exhibitionist," Jordan laughs. "And he does like you, okay? He doesn't hate you, you're just nothing like him and he doesn't know how to take it."

"I mean, there's nothing to prove that he likes me unless you count the time he kissed me on the couch and ran last week," Taylor rambles on, and Jordan sits up so fast his head spins.

"He kissed you?" He asks. "Are you serious? And you didn't tell me before now? What the fuck?" Taylor feels his cheeks heat up, and he slides off the bed and searches through his bag for a pair of boxers.

"Why would I joke about that?" He mutters. "It's not funny."

"Wait." Jordan stares at Taylor, watching him climb into bed and curl up into a fetal position. "You like him." Taylor snorts, trying to ignore the building pressure in his chest. 

"No I don't, not like that."

"Yes like that," Jordan says, "And you might even love him." Taylor blanches as he tries to be convincing and say,

"That's fucking ridiculous, I do _not_ \- you're crazy."

"Yes you do - and no one is crazy, Whits talked to me about this yesterday," Jordan says with a large smile. "He said you wouldn't stop staring."

"He's crazy; that's not what happened, I'm not in love and that's it," Taylor insists, glaring at Jordan as threateningly as possible, but not looking too scary at all when wrapped up in a blanket up to his chin. Minnesota gets cold too this time of year.

"He kissed you and now you're in love but you think he hates you?" Jordan continues.

"I don't - no, stop, you're not listening to anything I'm saying, shut up."

"Was it good?" Jordan asks, and only now does Taylor realize he's just teasing. Fucker.

"Ugh, _stop_. He ran away, so no, it wasn't good. Hardly got a taste." Taylor's got a hint of a smile on his face. Jordan scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed, head resting on his forearm as he studies Taylor's expression.

"But seriously, Hallsy. Do you love him?" Taylor breathes out a long sigh, and closes his eyes.

"No?"

"Is that a question?" Jordan prompts gently.

"I - I don't know?" Taylor answers softly. "Maybe? I don't know how this works. How love works." He shivers at the word, biting down hard on his lip. "I didn't even know I was - you know." He extracts his hand and waves it around. "You know?"

"I think so."

"But it was never anything before him, it was always chicks, I never looked at a guy like that, but then he came along and bam! I dunno what happened," Taylor explains. "What's so special about him? I've had hundreds of teammates and I haven't been obsessed with the way they crossover when they turn or the shape of their goddamn face or the way they smile."

"'The way they smile'," Jordan repeats. "You're obsessed with his smile? That's the sweetest thing, oh my god. I knew you were a sap deep down."

"Shut up." Taylor's cheeks are burning, and he squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees white spots. "Please, just - shut up. I don't wanna think about it."

"Love is crazy," Jordan says. "And I won't talk about it unless it's visibly bothering you, okay? I don't want any obsession to interfere with my best friend." Taylor cracks open an eye to see Jordan smiling at him. His dark eyes are filled with warmth and a special kind of softness Taylor's never seen before. "If there's anything at all you want or need to say, I'll be here to listen."

Taylor merely stares back at him with a nervous half-smile. "Okay." He snuggles deeper into the blanket and repeats a little louder, "Okay."

• • •

The team is in New York for New Year's Eve, and the crowds are absolutely ridiculous no matter where they go. Their flight is at 4 am, so, with permission from Coach, they leave all their things on the bus and head out to Times Square or to find a party with accessible alcohol.

Whits drags his rookie along, following Taylor and Jordan as they walk through the throngs of people on the streets. "Times Square?" Whits shouts over the crowd.

"Yeah!" Taylor yells back, sticking out his hand to pull Ryan and Whits through. "C'mon, I don't wanna lose you guys!"

"We won't get lost, not if you keep your big head on straight!" Whits teases, and Taylor would laugh if it wasn't for his choice of words. Straight. That's funny.

Taylor stands motionless for a few seconds until he's jostled by a passing couple, hands linked together as they laugh. Taylor blinks as he sees the two guys share a kiss, then disappear behind the ever-moving crowd. It could be that easy, if he lived another life, if he wasn't famous from playing an excessively heterosexual sport.

"Hallsy!" Whits prompts, and Taylor is suddenly shoved forward. "Talk about getting lost! Get a move on!"

"I'm moving, I'm moving!" Taylor exclaims, and a hand latches onto his wrist as he scoots past all the half-drunk New Yorkers and tourists.

"Taylor," he hears Ryan say in his ear as Whits moves ahead of them to catch up with Jordan. "Tay, can we talk?"

"Maybe, if you call me Hallsy," he replies, looking back to meet Ryan's eyes. "And if it's about the game, don't even think about it. We're supposed to be celebrating the new year, not moping about the shitty Islanders." He dodges a group of women chattering to each other in some other language - Spanish, maybe? - that all coo as he walks by. It may or may not be a very large ego boost.

"It's not about the game," Ryan says, and Taylor shudders as he feels the hot breath on the back of his neck. Ryan is very, very close to him.

"Then what's it about?" They reach the spot that Jordan has apparently deemed worthy of their time, the four of them gathered close together to share heat and avoid getting separated.

"You." Taylor raises an eyebrow at Ryan's one-word answer, but Ryan only looks steadily back at him. Taylor wonders who slipped him a drink - and when - to make his eyes that hazy.

"What about me?" Taylor asks, taking a step back as Jordan looks over the crowd for - something, Taylor doesn't know what. Probably a source of alcohol or someone to kiss.

"I just wanted-" The crowd screams, drowning out the rest of Ryan's explanation as they begin to count down to the ball drop.

Taylor's mind races as he thinks of all the times he's meaninglessly kissed random girls as the clock struck midnight, wondering if it's okay to turn away, then grab Ryan and pretend he didn't know who it was.

He's saved the burden of the decision when Ryan grabs his chin and plants a smacking kiss square on his mouth. Taylor immediately latches onto him and draws him back in the second he pulls away, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as he licks at Ryan's lower lip. This time, Ryan doesn't pull back, hands slipping around to grope Taylor's ass.

They're still in their dress clothes from the game, but Taylor couldn't care less, rubbing up against Ryan through all their layers and feeling him moan into the kiss. His mouth is warm and wet and tastes a little tangy - yup, that's definitely champagne he drank - and he lets out another soft noise as Taylor grabs onto the back of his neck and holds on tight.

"Holy shit." Jordan's voice stuns them both, and Ryan stumbles back to see him staring open-mouthed at the two of them. Shocked Jordan doesn't happen too often.

"Oh fuck," Ryan whispers to himself, but Jordan only grins.

"The happy couple!" He cheers, wrapping his arms around both of their waists and pulling them close to his sides. "I knew you'd get your shit together sooner than later!" Jordan shouts in Taylor's direction.

Taylor doesn't have the heart to tell him that it's not what he thinks.

• • •

"I thought you guys had your shit together," Jordan says confusedly the second they board the plane after a satisfying 4-3 win in Chicago.

"Hm?" Taylor's not really listening, thinking about his power play goal and trying to relive the moment for as long as possible.

"You and Nuge," Jordan says in a lower voice as he buckles up. "I thought you guys were, you know. Together? Finally?"

"Nope," Taylor answers sadly, leaning his head on the window. "He was a little drunk and I was a little too into the moment."

"Have you talked to him about it yet?" Taylor wrinkles his nose at the suggestion.

"That sounds like a death wish," he says. "Of course not."

"If you ever wanna figure shit out, you gotta talk to people. Like, face to face, talk."

"I can do it," Taylor sighs, fishing around in his pockets for his headphones. "I'll get over it."

"Wouldn't you rather get with it? Or shall I say, get with _him_?"

"Shut up," Taylor hisses. "I don't wanna talk about this, and especially not now."

"Why not?" Jordan asks, obviously goading him into saying something stupid. Taylor turns and gestures wildly to the sleepy team surrounding them.

" _Because we're not fucking alone_."

"So?"

"So we're not talking about this here."

"Later, then?" Jordan suggests, but there's an edge to it, as if Taylor's not allowed to refuse.

"Fine, whatever. Later." The glint in Jordan's eye tells Taylor he won't be getting out of this conversation until it's really over.

Jordan sticks to Taylor's side until they're alone in their Buffalo hotel room, and he has Taylor cornered. "So."

"You promised we wouldn't talk about this unless I was being obvious," Taylor says.

"And you are. I don't like seeing you all weird and mopey all the time, so we're talking about this now. So. Speak."

"But you said we-"

" _Speak_ , Taylor," Jordan says firmly, and _oh_ , there's his commanding voice.

"About what, specifically?" Taylor tries to clarify. "Like, if he likes me or not, if we're ever gonna be a thing, if-"

"Hallsy, you stuck your tongues down each other's throats in the middle of Times Square on New Year's Eve, I'm pretty sure he likes you," Jordan interrupts with a dry laugh. "The real question is why you aren't dating."

"It's only been like four months, I only met him four months ago!"

"I didn't say marry him, did I?" Taylor sticks out his lower lip in a pout, crossing his arms as he sinks further into the pillows, legs stretching across the bed and back leaning against the headboard.

"I can't date him," he says. "We can't be together even if that's what he wanted."

"And how do you know that's not what he wants?" Jordan pushes, "How do you know he doesn't want to date you? You've got nothing pointing against that, that's for sure."

"Ebs-"

"Taylor, for the last time, you never know unless you ask! Trust me, I'm all for helping you along the way, but when it comes down to it, I can't ask him to date you, if that's what you want. I don't even know what _you_ want, never mind what he wants. _You_ need to talk to him."

Taylor hides his face in his hands, as if not seeing the world will somehow make all his problems disappear. Maybe if he thinks hard enough, Ryan will just _know_ , and they'll be all set and ready to take on the world.

"Hallsy?" Taylor takes in a deep breath between his fingers and starts,

"Ebs, I-" He bites down hard on his plump lower lip. "I can't. I can't talk to him. I don't _do_ feelings, I don't _do_ relationships. Hell, I didn't even know I was into guys till him." Jordan patiently studies Taylor as he thinks deeper. "But I...I want to try something with him, I think. I just. I don't know how."

"And that's where I come in." Taylor looks at Jordan between the spaces of his fingers. "I can help with that."

"You can?"

"I didn't have a girlfriend for nothing," Jordan says with a grin.

"Ebby!"

"I mean, I loved her a helluva lot-" Jordan's eyes get misty at that. "-but now that she's gone, I can help you with relationship stuff." Taylor feels his heart leap in his chest, and he removes his hands from his eyes to get a better view of his friend.

"I can't believe you," he laughs. "Or me. I can't believe me either."

"Me neither," Jordan says, and they both laugh again. Some things were made to be, and even if Taylor doesn't end up with Ryan, he'll be happy to have had Jordan as a friend - and hopefully forever.

• • •

"Can we room together?" Taylor asks Ryan right before the room keys are handed out. Ryan looks nervous, and his eyes dart over to Maggie, who's deep in conversation with Anton. _It's probably something to do with IKEA or Swedish meatballs_ , Taylor muses. Crazy Swedes.

"I mean. What about Ebs?"

"He's gonna be with Gags for the night," Taylor answers. "You don't have to say yes, but-"

"No no, it's fine, yeah, we can room together," Ryan says hurriedly, and Taylor hides a pleased grin. Ryan hates making people upset with him - especially his line-mates, apparently - so Taylor played the innocent card. So what if he used a little guilt trip to convince Ryan to stay with him? It worked, didn't it?

The keys are then handed out, and Taylor snatches the two for Room 439 and heads to the elevators with Ryan close behind. "He snores super loud," Jordan says in Ryan's ear.

"I do not!" Taylor protests, shoving him. "Only when I'm sick!"

"So you've been sick since the day you were born, eh?"

"Fuck off." Ryan just smiles and steps into the elevator after them, Gags poking Jordan in the side repeatedly, asking for a piece of gum.

"For the last time, _no,_ it's all gone," Jordan sighs. The doors ding open, and he adds, "The only kind I have left is the cinnamon, which you don't like."

"I don't even _care_ ," Gags begs, "Just give it to me." Jordan sighs as he sticks his key in the slot, waving to Ryan and Taylor as they find their room a few doors down from Jordan's.

"Which bed?" Taylor asks upon opening the door. Ryan pauses.

"Umm..."

"Superstitious much? Or does it not matter?"

"I don't care, whichever one you don't take," Ryan says, and okay, Taylor was kind of expecting that answer. Taylor kicks his shoes off and jumps onto the bed closest to the window, bouncing a little bit. "Alright."

Ryan sits on the other bed, slowly removing his shoes, then fiddling with his fingers. He plugs in his phone and hangs his jacket up on the hook in the closet, returning to find Taylor watching him closely. "What?"

"We need to talk," Taylor says bluntly, and Ryan swallows hard.

"About?"

"This." Taylor gestures between the two of them. "Is it - are we a thing?"

"What kind of thing?" Ryan says, and Taylor can see exactly what he's doing.

"I'm just gonna say it," he says through gritted teeth, eyes barely open. "Do you wanna date me or not?" The first thing that comes out of Ryan's mouth is a question:

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I just-" Ryan cuts himself off as Taylor gets up and climbs onto Ryan's bed. "I, uh-"

"Do you think I'm worthy?" Taylor ghosts his fingers over Ryan's chest, admiring the way his abs contract even under his dress shirt. "Am I good enough for you?"

"Yeah," Ryan breathes, staring at Taylor like he hung the stars. "Yes, you're so, uh, you're so good." He almost looks drunk with it, fingers twitching like he wants to touch Taylor everywhere. Taylor would absolutely not mind one bit.

"Do you want this every day?" Taylor leans in and kisses him hard. "Or this?" He slides a hand up under Ryan's shirt, untucking it and feeling over Ryan's developing muscles with pleasure. "Or this?" He pushes Ryan back onto the bed, leaning in close and brushing their noses together. He stares silently into Ryan's eyes for several seconds until Ryan breathes out,

"Yes, _god_ , I want it. Want it all the time." Taylor beams, and Ryan's cheeks flush brilliantly red as Taylor kisses his nose, pressing another kiss high on each of his cheeks before going for the real deal.

Taylor's lips slide across Ryan's naturally, as if one - no, two kisses were enough to learn the exact shape of each other's mouths. Ryan reaches up and laces his fingers behind Taylor's head, and Taylor plants his knees on either side of Ryan's waist before grinding down into him.

Ryan tilts his head back in an open-mouthed groan, the sound soft but meaningful - he wants more. Taylor licks and sucks down his neck, fingers working the buttons apart and sliding the shirt off his body. His hands fumble with the belt as Ryan tugs him down for another kiss, this one messy and desperate. He can feel Ryan rutting up against his thigh, just as hard as Taylor, and Taylor smirks into the skin of his collarbone.

"So pretty," he whispers, lips brushing the mark he left as he pulls back. "All mine?" Ryan nods frantically, shoving down his pants and boxers and getting a hand on his dick.

"C'mon, c'mon, why aren't you naked?" He demands, stroking himself a few times before Taylor smacks his hand away. "But-"

"Lemme do it," Taylor says, and Ryan shudders at the thought, again reaching up for Taylor. "I got you, babe." Ryan's eyes widen at the pet name, and he spreads his legs wider as Taylor smoothly slides off his jacket and pants and unbuttons his shirt. Ryan wraps his fingers in Taylor's underwear and leans forward to tug it down, leaving a few hot kisses across Taylor's chest before laying back and devouring him with dark, lustful eyes.

"Come on," Ryan whispers, and Taylor nods, taking his own hard cock in hand and rubbing the precome over the head to make it easier. "Come _on_."

"I got it, Nuge, I got you, I promise." Ryan groans as Taylor's big hand finally - _finally_ \- wraps around both of their leaking cocks and begins to jerk them off together.

Ryan lets out these beautiful little noises as Taylor slides his hand up and down rapidly, leaning down to swallow Ryan's sounds and kiss the breath out of him. Ryan tries to buck up into the touch, gasping for air when Taylor pulls away for the first time. He sucks a dark mark right on Ryan's collarbone, fingers gripping onto his shoulder hard enough to leave bruises so there will be no doubt come tomorrow about what he got up to.

Slicking the way with only their mixed precome, Taylor speeds up the pace until Ryan's eyes are squeezed shut and he's covered in an almost silvery sheen of sweat. Taylor bites down hard on Ryan's lip, and Ryan pushes his hips up one last time and comes with a soft whimper of " _Hallsy_ ". Taylor follows him right over the edge, splattering Ryan's stomach and making even more of a mess of it.

"I don't think you can call me Hallsy outside of the bedroom anymore," Taylor says as he flops to the side, snugly pressed up next to Ryan.

"I never did," Ryan pants, reaching over and setting a hand on Taylor's thigh. Taylor tangles his fingers with Ryan's and squeezes.

They lay in silence for several minutes until Taylor asks hesitantly, "So...what are we?" Ryan huffs out a laugh.

"I better not just be another one of your hookups," he warns. Taylor shrugs.

"Nah." Taylor turns his head so he's barely an inch from Ryan. "You're more special than that." Ryan smiles at that, lips curving upward to reveal his perfect white teeth. Yeah, so what if Taylor's obsessed with his smile? He's in love.

"I love you," Taylor finishes, and Ryan's eyes dart away. "I really do. I _know_ I do, and I want you all to myself. Can - can we do that?" Ryan shifts closer and tucks his head between Taylor's cheek and shoulder.

"Anything you want." Taylor pokes Ryan's cheek, and Ryan giggles as he adds, "And I want you too."

"Good." He presses a kiss to the top of Ryan's head, admiring the way his dark hair contrasts with the white of the pillows and sheets. He listens as Ryan's breathing slowly steadies out, both of them completely forgetting that his chest is a mess. Not that it matters, in all honesty.

Taylor would think it a shame that they finally got it together after a handjob, but hey. It was a damn good handjob.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a helluva lot longer than the stuff I usually write, but I hope it goes well. :)
> 
> Also, I may have overdone the "shy and awkward Ryan", but it was kinda key to the storyline.
> 
> But seriously though. This is ridiculously long. Wow.


End file.
